


Changes at the Loft

by scheherezade34



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, No Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-21
Updated: 2004-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherezade34/pseuds/scheherezade34
Summary: Michael finds the Loft in turmoil.





	Changes at the Loft

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

“Brian!”

Rumble. Michael, not waiting for an answer, let himself into the Loft. Again. Considering that he’d much prefer not to admit that Brian and Justin were an item, it was puzzling why Michael so often ran the risk of catching them fucking by walking into the Loft unannounced. His strike rate had to be about one in three and he still kept on opening that door.

“Brian? Why aren’t you at the diner? We always have brunch there on Sun…..what the fuck?”

Well, today would lower the strike rate. A little. Brian and Justin weren’t fucking.

Or even kissing. Or making out. Or sort of watching the Powerpuff Girls in a sleepy or not-so-sleepy tangle.

Something was definitely awry today.

“Have you been burgled? Are you alright? Where are you? Brian? Brian!”

“Mikey,” came from a muffled voice from the floor in front of the sofa. Long legs were sprawled on the floor, while the sofa cushions were thrown all round. The throw (handy for twinks after late night spats – for an hour or so, anyway) that was usually tucked away under a cushion had been hurled against the nearest wall, and the drawer to the side table was on the floor.

“Have they taken much? Brian? Are you OK?”

“Hi,” came from the kitchen, where Justin was hoeing into an enormous bowl of cereal while he kept an eye on brewing coffee and cheese melting on toast. “He’s fine. Well, apart from his usual morning gr……”

A growl from under the sofa encouraged Justin not to continue that theme.

“And nothing’s wrong. We haven’t been burgled.”

Michael swung round to talk to Justin, who had the merit of seeming at least prepared to talk to him. Whatever was up with Brian, getting too close did not seem like a strategy ensuring Michael’s ongoing survival on this peaceful sunny Sunday morning.

The kitchen was in no better state. All the drawers had been pulled out and dumped on the bench. Most of them had actually been tipped out. Cupboard doors were open and the fruit usually in the fruit bowl had been dumped in the sink.

“Brian hasn’t been burgled, you mean.”

“Whatever.” Justin carefully took the slices of toast dripping with cheese from under the broiler, glanced towards the sofa, and inserted one plain piece of bread. “Coffee?”

“I suppose so,” Michael’s gaze shifted from him and traveled round the rest of the Loft. The Barcelona chair was on its side, all the drawers in the office area were out, and it looked as though the bed had been stripped and the mattress had actually been lifted out of its base. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing,” grumped a voice from under the sofa. The legs stretched and scrabbled and seemed to work towards another corner.

“Huh!”

“Sunshine, are you either getting back on the job or getting me that coffee because we’ve only got one hour left. Socialize with Mikey some other time.”

“Briiiiaan! What the fuck is going on?”

Justin answered. “It’s just that Gus is coming to visit. And for the first time he can move around by himself now. A lot.

“So we have to make sure the place is kid safe. Nothing breakable less than bench height from the ground anywhere, because you can never predict what little kids will get into. Nothing like pencils or marking pens where he can reach them. Can you imagine Brian with scribbles on the walls of his precious Loft?” A snarl came from the legs now seemingly attempting to turn a somersault while still underneath the sofa. 

“Power outlets covered and power cords not where Gus can pull something on top of himself,” Justin continued. “And kids can swallow and choke on anything smaller than three inches across. Especially if it’s flexible.

“So we need to gather up all the small things like erasers, and emergency tubes of lube,

“And

every

single……” Justin was interrupted by another snarl emanating from the region of the sofa

“.. condom.”


End file.
